Things Left Untold
by iluvcats09
Summary: Fi is a Zora, shunned by her society. Girahim is a Hylian from Skyloft, who has fallen into Fi's world. Everything is peaceful and perfect...until the Choosing of the Sword Spirits, when Demise tears their worlds apart. And some things can't be mended...


**I have had this little fanfic idea since I got Skyward Sword (I still haven't beaten the game-I just watched the final boss on Youtube). For some reason I just felt that Girahim's and Fi's stories were incomplete.**

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_Girahim:_ I'm falling. I have fallen from my Loftwing, and now I am going to die. The cloud bank grows nearer and nearer. My Loftwing's screeches pierce my ears, and I share its agony. A monster had shot its wing, and now we are both falling. The cloud bank thickens, and I can see nothing. Then it thins again. My Loftwing's mind has faded, and I can barely feel it. It has stopped shrieking, and falls limply through the air. We are over a lake, getting closer and closer to the water's surface. Then I hit. I am plunged down, down into the cold water. What the Headmaster had said was true; hitting water from a long distance is like hitting stone. Pain screams through my arms, my legs, my entire body. My vision narrows, blurs, and I can barely feel myself being lifted before I slip into unconsciousness.

_Fi:_ The water from the lake is indiscernible from my tears. I hate my life, right now. Everyone hates me because I am different. Because I cannot understand how they feel, and why they feel the way they do. The only safe haven is this pond, one that I and I alone have discovered. It's a short walk North from Zora's Domain. I come here whenever I want to be alone, with only the fish for company. It's silent, in my pond. Then suddenly it bursts apart with noise. Something crashes into the shore with a screech and a sickening crack. I do not want to see what it is. Then I see something else, falling. It has the appearance of a Zora, but it is a different color, and lacks fins. It hits the pond even as it shrieks in pain. Then I'm diving into the water, trying to save it. It has hit the bottom of the pond, and looks injured. I am swimming up, my arms gently wrapped around it. When I reach the surface half the Zora army is there, worried looks on their faces. The Zora-like creature groans. "You… who are you?" he asks weakly, grimacing as blood trickles from a gash in his side where he hit the rough, rocky floor of the pond.  
"I am Fi. Who are you?" I reply with a question. I'm curious about this creature. Where did he come from? Who is he?  
"Girahim," is his short reply before he falls unconscious again. Girahim. What a strange name.

_Girahim:_ My Loftwing is dead. It takes several days for that to soak in. Its consciousness has left from my mind, leaving behind a gaping hole that is impossible to fill. Seeing its broken form…it was just too much. I will never be the same again. The Zoras keep at a distance from me, do not come into the room where I lie motionless on a bed of pine branches. Except for one. Fi, the one who saved me. She is curious, and kind. She brings me meals each day; the others are too afraid. What is wrong with their society, that any newcomer is shunned by all? On Skyloft, we would accept a stranger, if we knew they were good. Skyloft… my home, to which I will never return. And I am weeping again, for my Loftwing, for all that I have lost.

_Fi:_ The stranger—Girahim—hasn't spoken one word since he told me his name. He lies staring at the ceiling, barely reacting to my presence. It was the bird. I'm sure of it. He had wept when he had seen its body. Wept and wept until I thought he could weep no more. That bird must have been special to him. There is a 95 percent chance of it. Percents, probability, the certainty of mathematics comforts me. It helps me understand. I walk across Zora's Domain, carrying a bowl of warm soup. He may not speak, but he still must eat. He doesn't move when I enter the small room. I'm afraid he's dead, for a second, then he finally turns to look in my direction. His eyes have an empty look to them. He opens his mouth, and I hold my breath.  
"Thank you." Two words. The first two words he has spoken to me.  
"You spoke," I say. "You haven't spoken yet. Is it the bird?" At that word, bird, he stiffens.  
"Do not speak of it," he says. Why I must not speak of it is a mystery to me. But I don't.  
"Would you like some soup?" I ask, holding out the bowl. He takes it and begins spooning the soup into his mouth, his arms shaking. I watch in fascination.  
"Your skin isn't blue. You don't have fins." I'm curious. Where did he come from? He answers my question.  
"I'm not from here. I can't even swim."  
"Where are you from?"  
"I…I…" He doesn't want to say. I mentally calculate a 78 percent chance that he is not from Lanayru Province. Where is he from?

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**So... yeah. In other words, happy new year! It's going to be 2012!**


End file.
